


Elma Cay

by noadventureshere



Series: Everyday Blasphemies [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Blasphemy, Communion | Eucharist, M/M, Oral Sex, Other, Scenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 11:52:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19887253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noadventureshere/pseuds/noadventureshere
Summary: Communion takes many forms. Crowley loves his Angel every which way and backwards.





	Elma Cay

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday to all my Julybabies! MrsNoggin, geekoncaffeine, Irrevocably_Sherlocked, jaradel, Vulgarweed, goddessinsepia. Much love to everyone!

Crowley loves Aziraphale. Loves him every which way and backwards. But, he sometimes thinks he loves him best like this. Spread out on their sheets like a buffet, he holds nothing back. His hedonistic Angel. Completely divine and still lusciously, drippingly human.

Crowley reverently bends to the task at hand. The Angel is open and wet-willing under his tongue. Today it is folds of skin and dark, secret places. He sucks and licks and nips and nuzzles until Aziraphale is thrashing above him, moaning like a proverbial whore in church. The thought makes Crowley smile wider, and his teeth to point. The extra prickles of sharpness do Aziraphale in and he comes in a gush. And Crowley loves this too. He collects every drop and cleans his Angel dry. He gives thanks for the bounty he has received. Aziraphale lies back and shivers with oversensitivity.

-

Crowley has always been welcome at the bookshop, but now he moves around more naturally. Popping into the kitchen for a cuppa without checking for permission. Bringing Aziraphale some cocoa because he looks like he needs the pepping up. Tea bags have appeared in the cabinet; smokey lapsang souchong, a lighter Darjeeling, one that smells like apples. Like a ritual, he stirs a spoonful of something into every cup and smiles a satisfied cat smile after every sip. Aziraphale doesn't ask.

-

Junior Angels stop by en route to assignments. They come in dribs and drabs. Aziraphale is the only angel who knows how humans work and how to blend in. They go on their way slightly confused but in more appropriate footwear (honestly, who sent them down with sandals in January?). They stare open-mouthed at the demon sprawled over a chair.

Michael comes down. They're there to put a stop to the meddling, young angels are coming back with very strange ideas. They hone in on Aziraphale's essence and start in with the lecture as soon as they appear. "... ludicrous ideas about eating, drinking, and shoes!!" They're really ramping up for a good harangue when:

"Oh, hullo Michael, when did you get in?"

Michael spins around. Aziraphale is behind them, did they get their location wrong? They turn back, Crowley waggles his fingers at them. "How..."

Crowley takes a mouthful of tea and rolls it around in his mouth. He hums with pleasure and swallows in a way that reminds Michael that he was a serpent once upon a time. He lets his tongue dance around the rim of his mug; it's longer than it strictly should be. He saunters past Michael to give Aziraphale a kiss on the cheek. "Nice to see you, Michael, I think I'm going back to bed."

"Oh Crowley, whatever shall I do with you?"

Aziraphale blushes as Crowley shouts back, "I can think of one or two things!"

"He..he smells like you."

"What was that dear?"

"I thought he was you. I sought you out and ended up with him. It's all over him, inside and out."

"We are our own side now, aren't we? I don't know why you're surprised. I'm sure I smell quite a bit of him as well." Aziraphale takes on a stern expression and he tells Michael off a bit about the young angels. Michael is distracted and thinks they may have agreed to compensate Aziraphale and Crowley for the tutoring they've been doing.

Michael goes to the office to write their report. Crowley's smug smile is everywhere they look. He was drinking…

They laugh when they get it. How human of them.

-

Aziraphale isn't stupid. In spite of everything, Crowley should not smell enough like him to fool an archangel. He checks the cabinets carefully but can't find the...

"Looking for this?" Crowley looks like sin itself. Lounging against a wall, half-naked in the dim light, he holds out a jar in the manner of one doing all sorts of tempting.

Aziraphale takes the jar but slides into Crowley's arms to look at it. "My goodness," he cocks his head, "does it make the tea sweeter?"

"Better; makes it taste like you."

The rest of the day is lost in the soft sounds of two beings moving together, exactly how they want to.

**Author's Note:**

> The implied bits: Aziraphale is a gusher. Crowley collects it all and uses it to "sweeten" his tea. He labelled the jar cunny honey because he thinks he's hilarious. (I've been watching too much boardwalk empire)
> 
> Elma Cay is an apple tea from Turkey


End file.
